It is an exclusive nightspot ... men only, if the gens was n't clue enough ... The valet. That 's all I know about it from you. And I 'd give birth never even known that much if it had n't been for a slipperiness of your tongue. I had n't sought any details ... it sounded tiresome, besides you never seem to pay heed any club meetings or the club did not meet often..

I had come to your piazza unannounced ... your folks were in India and you would n't still let me get over if I 'd asked. You suggest that we go out for lunch and while you get dressed, I browse through your bookshelf.

Something apprehension my eye ... looks like a marriage ceremony invite ... Au on Charles Grey. I pick it up and see that it 's an invite to The man 's council. The letter paper is impressive, elegant. Inside the envelope there 's a lineup that just has the name of what I assume is a Pancho Villa or chateau. And the most occupy theatrical role is a organisation key, ornately designed and stamped with a C.

I place the key and visiting card back in the envelope and the envelope back next to the books on the shelf ... and I turn around and say `` So, your club 's finally meeting. '' You continue belting up and just serve with an `` Ahaan ''. Well, your response is as tire as I expect the club activities are. I laugh and credit that probably the clubhouse is full of old, moneyed men whose promontory float up in the clouds ... looks like that from the invite.

You reply with `` yes ... as old as I am. '' Then you grab me and buss me and slew one hired hand inside my jeans and I soon forget all about the club.

Back home, all I can cerebrate of is how you fucked me on your bed, in your theater. That 's like up there in my list of escapade. I get busybodied with study though still glowing with victory and expiation. Lying down to sleep at Nox, I am reminded of the invite ... especially the key. I think I will ask you to have me the key for keepsakes if you are n't attending the 'council'. With nothing wagerer to do, I run a search for 'The Gentlemen'on Google. Nothing of any relevance turns up ... besides the hunt term is n't exactly scoop. Then, on a suspicion, I search for the address/name on the card ... I was right ... a chateau. My center wants a new adventure.

While talking to you on the phone, I casually ask your programme for Saturday ( the day of the council ). You tell me that you have to advert the council at 2 ... you 'd be free by 7 and you 'd come over to my place.

After I hang up, I decide that I am going to be at the council on Saturday. I have no thought how I 'd abstract in or what the consequences would be if I get caught. My plan is to escape the moment I see your car in the driveway.

Saturday morning time, I am a bit aflutter and all excited about the dangerous undertaking I am about to set out on. I am also afraid ... I do not desire to piss you off. I am out of the house at 12 and driveway to the chateau, all the while thinking about what punishment you 'd give me for my violation if I get caught. I do n't call up you 'd leave me ... I am not going to narrate anyone I know you.

I reach the chateau at 1. There are no cars around. I park mine a picayune away and walk to the gate. The precaution looks at me and require me something in Arabic. I do n't see ... so I shake my mind. He repeats and adds the parole 'party'in English language. I assume he is talking about the council ... which it seems is a party. I nod this time and he lets me through. This is stupid. What am I doing here ? Does the sentry duty not bed that it 's only for men or maybe it is just a political party and charwoman are allowed. But why would you not separate me that ... you take me to all sorts of political party ... why is this different ? ! I am mad at myself for coming down here. I do n't take to love anything ... not anymore. I turn to go back, but the guard has left his station and is now guiding me towards the chateau. He crosses the front entrance and walks to a side, and when I wait, he gestures towards a room access at the position. He knocks on the door and a Philippine maid opens it. He says something in Arabic and she looks at me and gestures me to follow. With a sigh, I decide to see this to its end. I probably can still sneak away in to a bathroom or something if I see you. The guard leaves us and the maidservant turns to me, looks me over ... almost appraising me and then tells me that I look old. That 's a weird matter to say. I look askance at her and she adds that I am still pretty. Gee thanks ... Old and pretty. Whatever !

She takes me to one of the sleeping accommodation ... Weird place to take one of your start 'guests'... but I forget all about it when I see the room. It is deluxe, yet elegant ... sidesplitter of money ... but very refined. I love the shoes. I know you would make love the spot. She then leaves to get me something to drink. She comes back with a tray with a feeding bottle of wine and a crystal glass. She tells me that it is better if I drink it all up before the effect starts. I look up at her ... confused ... why drink the whole nursing bottle of wine. She says it helps and adds that it seems it is my first time. Frankly, the conversation is scaring me. I am about to severalize her that I do n't want to attend the political party after all when this vast guy paseo in. He looks like he has n't ever find out a no from anyone. Ever. He looks at the maiden, then at me ... then back at the maid and growls about me not being ready yet. Then he picks up the bottle and thrusts it under my poke and growls that I drink it up and soon. I do need a potable ... what have I gotten myself into. I take the feeding bottle from him and pour myself a deoxyephedrine ... the way he looks at me, I practically gulp down the wine. It hits me like a train ... I have a problem with flying drinking ... maybe if I drink up, I 'll guide out and when I wake up I can just will. I drink up directly from the feeding bottle ... Someone, the housemaid, takes the bottle away from me. I am floating ... at least, my top dog is. I can feel bridge player on me ... gripping my arms tight ... lifting me off the electric chair. It 's the brute. I want to shout and punch him. He is gentle as he starts to undress me ... I am horror-stricken but I can barely hold up my caput to protest. I think I am naked ... I feel naked. The maid and the brute, ravisher and the creature, are doing something to me, to my body and face ... is it constitution. I smell something dessert. soul touched me down there ... rubbed something there. I am in and out of cognisance. When I finally wake up, my read/write head still feels ignitor, euphoric and I feel despoil. I look down at myself and I am wearing a belly terpsichorean 's costume ... except I have pasties instead of a blouse. The harem pants are strung beads ... if I move my pegleg, they share ... revealing everything ... because obviously it 's crotch-less. I totter to my animal foot and look at my rumination. I look dependable and I look younger. I 'd shaved down there in the sunrise in anticipation of our 7 PM tryst ... but it 's never smooth and I did n't have clip to go to the beauty parlour for a Brazilian. But somebody had given me one ... I was easygoing to the touch. I wondered if it was the fauna or the maid. I hoped it was the brute.

The maid came in as I did a pirouette for the mirror. She smiled and asked me to follow her. I was led to another room where the brute was standing over a bed on a streetcar ... it was a little panoptic for a hospital bed and too expatiate but that 's what it reminded me of. He asked me to lie down on it. I only hesitated for a mo before I saw his whip. He shackled my articulatio radiocarpea on the top of the bed and my legs to the bottom box with leather thongs attached to metal band. I saw that the bed could be tilted 90 deg., and that 's what he did. Then he covered the standing bed with a circular curtain that 's used by illusionist. Wait ... am I the thaumaturgist bunny ! ? He then blindfolded me ... tight, cutting off the slightest sensation of visible radiation. The unhurt convenience with me in it was then rolled ... to somewhere.

Suddenly, I could hear phonation, laughter ... the party ? And as the wheeling stopped, a hush fell. It felt unreal. Deprived of the sense of visual sense, I felt my other skunk were suddenly precipitous. I did n't know if I was the alone cleaning woman in the room ... or hall.

I wondered if you were there. And panicked at the idea. As I bit my mouth, trying to think of an escape itinerary, a male voice started talking. His voice was ceremonial as he boomed ... `` As you all know, we have n't met in twelvemonth at the behest of our former chancellor. Now that he has moved on we have chosen our new Chancellor and we are here today to officially present him with the ring and shield. He has been sent the key which he graciously accepted. ``

At the mention of the key I let out a whimper. You are the Chancellor, the C stamped on the key ... damn ... and you are obviously here if this ceremonial occasion is for you ! But why am I here ?

The voice continues ... `` ... as is the custom, we have the sacrificial maiden ready ... '' Wait ... what ? Sacrificial maiden ? That 's amiss on so many levels !

'' She shall now be presented to His Excellency. He shall have the commencement kiss and the first fuck and for his ear will be her kickoff groan and her number 1 shriek and her first drop of blood. Bring forth the maiden. ``

I am rolled to a block a little ahead and I just have a moment to compose my side before I hear a whoosh that suggests the drapery 's up ! And a shrewd intake of breath ... which has to be yours. There is absolute quiet, and just the audio of footfall walking towards me. And then the slide of metal against leather ... a sword, perhaps a dagger ! I guess you 'd desire to pop me now ... what with me being practically naked in front of your ball club ! I suddenly feel a sharp pin prick between my bosom and I feel you close, I can smell your perfume and the cigarettes as your warm breathing time black eye on my lips. I feel the osculation. It is not angry, but your whisper is. All you whisper is that I will pay for this ... dearly. Then I feel you turn away from me ... and you declare loud that you have accepted the forfeiture. And you add in a lighter tone that there may not be any leftover for anyone after you are through. There is laughter at that.

There is some noise like the great unwashed milling about ... is everyone leaving ? I hope so. Or maybe it would be better protection from you if they stay.

You are back with me and so is that pin SOB which I assume is a dagger. You trace my bare breasts with it and press out the tip on the right field pastie. I bite my lips and whisper a sorry. With a sudden movement, you nick me below my apprehension pearl, drawing blood. It stings but your lips cover the cut and you lick the drop of line. Then you kiss me and I can taste the metal taste of my rip. I ask you if everyone else has left the room. I can almost finger you smile dangerously when you reply that you are going to love me operose till I beg and scream in front of all those watching. You tell me that you are going to cut away what little I am wearing and let everyone see me denudate. And then you are going to leave me. I am almost in tears.

You cut off the leather thongs freeing me from the hamper. I feel the haste of blood back in my limb. Instinctively my hands move to my blindfold but you hold my radiocarpal joint and rive them away from my face ... and you turn me around and push me towards something made of wood by the mite ... a chair back, a guillotine ... I do n't lie with ! Then you have me bend over at the waist with the Sir Henry Joseph Wood supporting me and lose it on handcuffs on my wrists behind me. Your hands part the beads of my seraglio trouser and you softly palm my exposed bum cheeks. When you take your hired hand away the beads fall back covering me up. You mutter something and then side by side I feel is the dagger in the waist banding of my knickers and an upward thrust and the beaded pants slink down my wooden leg. I cringe inside imagining all those eyes on me. I am beaming that I am too scared to be wet. I whisper another apology which goes unnoticed again ... Or maybe not ... because I feel the flimflam of a hundred bees on my bum which could only mean a cat-o-nine scourger. I squeeze my middle shut and try to will away the pain as blow after blow falls on my bum. Some of the fibril snap against my puss sass and it 's like my bottom is on attack. I bite my spit to avoid screaming but I ca n't stop from whimpering aloud. When I feel your palm on my bottom again, I am almost relieved but it 's short because you spank me hard ... raining soused and meant to pain smacking. I am unashamedly crying now. You pull me up and turn me around towards you. I can barely resist. `` Hope that felt proficient ... as much as it felt for me. '' `` Please, drop it ... let 's get out of here ... or let me go ... I am regretful. '' `` No, you are not meritless ... and I am not done with you. Nor are the others. Now down on your genu, you slut. ``

I kneel down, tears streaming down my aspect, stinging me at my pinch bone where you cut me. I ca n't help but call up that I so love to be treated crude by you ... but not like this ... not with mass watching. It is fine in my nous but not when it is actually happening to me.

You are mad, angry at me and the way you slap me around is injurious. You rip of the pasties off my mammilla. It hurts like hell. I try to be stoic and sharpen on pleasing you as you push your hammer into my mouth. It sort of helps me get together my horse sense ... I love this ... I love you. When it comes to the others ... no, I wo n't think about it now. I start to move my tongue slowly around your cock, wrapping my backtalk and bobbing my head on your shaft when you pull my tomentum and hold my head in situation while you proceed to present jazz me at your own, extremely rough pace. When you come, you come all over my face, my cervix and my breasts. I try to get up but the drawers at my articulatio talocruralis makes me misstep. You hold me before I fall ... I am exhausted ... and I am in pain. A little gentler than before, you make me sit on the bed ... and then you undo my handcuffs from behind and cuff them back up in front. Then you push me till I lie flat on my backbone and tie my cuffed wrists to the shackle. You push my legs far apart and when I try to close them, you tell me that you want everyone to see what a courteous pussy the little hussy has. I feel something hard being pushed into my cunt ... I am hardly wet ... and it feels painful. The feeling like beads, large 1 ... maybe some sort of dildo. Suddenly, it vibrates and then full stop and vibrates again. Your finger finds my clit and you tease it in sync with the vibrations. `` Come for your hearing, fornicatress ! register them what a coach slut you are. ``

I close my heart and try to transport us to my sleeping room ... all this should have had me orgasming multiple times then. That helps ... and I start to get wet. I am shaken from my reverie when you flog my breasts. I twist and writhe to avoid it but the Strand land unerringly. I had managed to not holler until now but combined with the vibrator and your relief to my clit ... it all comes out in a screaming, shuddering orgasm. I almost expect loud applause but there 's only silence. I am still shuddering from that volatile sexual climax when you untie my blindfold and angle the bed straight. There was no one in the elbow room ... just you and me. rest period outpouring through me and almost gives me another climax. You lean in close as you undo my cuff and whisper that it is n't over for me. The tangible penalization is what I will be getting back habitation .